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“I wouldn’t have let you even if he was alive.”
“Because you loved him, despite it all.”
“No. Because friends don’t let friends serve seven to ten in Broadmoor.”
She saw him register that word:friends. She didn’t regret it, however.
It was okay now. And he didn’t make it otherwise, either.
He gave her a half smile instead.
“I’d have been all right. Like I told you, you just roll them into the Thames.”
She nodded. “Ah, should have remembered that.”
“Well, you know now. So it’s safe to let me do anything like this.”
“Okay. I will let you go back in time and murder my dad for giving me the belt. But you’ve got to let me go back in time to murder yours for giving you clips and making you be a footballer,” she said. Then couldn’t help trying for it, just a little bit. “Instead of whatever you really wanted to be.”
But he was onto her immediately. He made an amused sound and shook his head. “You’re not going to get me to tell you what my dream job was that easy.”
And now she was calm and easy, too. She almost laughed, in fact.
“Oh, come on. I thought that was a good attempt. It almost worked.”
“To be fair to you, it did. It was on the tip of my tongue, then.”
“So just let it out.”
“I can’t. You’ll put it in the book.”
“I’ve told you I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
“Then what exactly would I be telling you for?”
“Same reason you’ve been telling me all the rest, I’m guessing.”
Because I trap you into it, she answered for him in her head.
Only that wasn’t what his expression suggested when he met her gaze.
It was something else, something less wary, less guarded. And then he said:
“So because it feels okay to with you.”
And oh, that was nice. That was good.
It made her glad she’d said that thing about friends.
And fully understand why she dared to share things with him.
They created some kind of strange space for each other—the thought of which made her soft in her response to him. “Yeah. Do it just because it feels okay.”
“This one wouldn’t, though. It’s embarrassing.”
“You’ve told me embarrassing things before.”
“No, but they weren’t really embarrassing things. Or at least they wouldn’t read as embarrassing things to someone like you. You don’t fucking care if a bloke like me watchesRepair Shopor isn’t into football. But this one… this one maybe you would care about. It might seem like I’m making fun.”
